


When fire devours we steal the ashes

by Catherines_Collections



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arson, Arsonist AU, Claire never turns to hunting, Gen, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, because Claire Novak is under appreciated, i really needed these broken children to meet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherines_Collections/pseuds/Catherines_Collections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet accidentally, both with the same plan and place.</p>
<p>She's blonde and dead inside, he's pale with eyes significantly older than sixteen. She smirks, pulling out a lighter when his goes out. They've traveled together ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When fire devours we steal the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> AU idea I've had for a while. I have never actually seen Teen wolf, only read fics so discard all timelines please. I apologize for grammar inaccuracies and everything along those lines. I own nothing, enjoy.

She has a thing with fire. Admires when it breaths and worships when it burns. She tries not to think about it.

\--

It starts when her dad dies, face stolen and soul buried. Hidden behind her mother’s skirt as two strange men leave with a creature wearing her father’s skin.

(She burns her father’s favorite tie, the one he always wore on Sundays, in the backyard while her mother lays unmoving on their living room couch.)

It becomes a problem when bottles replace the food in the kitchen, and not soon after her mother disappears. Phone calls go unanswered and reports are filed. She becomes a warden of the state. It’s a free fall after that really.

(She flees into the night, labeled a runaway and assigned a minimal search party that lasts two days. Then she’s home free)

\--

She isn’t stupid. She learns how to hide what she does and do it well. She even takes on jobs sometimes but it’s rare. What she does is an outlet, a hobby, a joy, not a job.  


The fire sucks out her soul and dwells in her eyes. Danger is portrayed on her scared finger tips and the warning label hides in the curve of her smirk. 

She knows it’s a problem but she can’t bring herself to care.

\--

They meet accidentally, both with the same plan and place.  


She’s blonde and dead inside, allowing the sparks in her soul to consume her. He’s pale with a shaven head, and eyes that look much older than sixteen. She smirks, pulling out a lighter when his goes out. They’ve traveled together ever sense. 

\--

He doesn’t stop talking and it grates her nerves sometimes, but then he mentions her random anger spurts and her mouth slams shut. He makes a face and she, being the mature adult-never mind the fact she is two months younger- most certainly does not retaliate. 

\--

Three months in and they share names, real names. “The name’s Stiles.” He says and she asks what’s a Stiles? nose scrunched in distaste and voice indicating she thinks he’s lying; his eyes get that distant look she has grown accustom to over the months, so she redirects the conversation, “My name’s Claire.”  


She states it defiantly, daring him to call her a liar. He only smirks and with a little bow and mockingly posh voice says, “It’s nice to formally meet you my lady.” She rolls her eyes and punches his shoulder, smiling when he hisses. 

\--

They make a living for themselves, it’s easy enough and almost enjoyable. She smiles and laughs, curling blonde hair around her fingers while men twice her age watch her lips and chest offering to buy her another drink. 

She takes the drinks and he takes their wallet.

Sometimes their roles are switched, due to preferences or unforeseen circumstances. She enjoys the thrill of taking cool leather compacts from baggy pants, but the feeling is nothing compared to what orange flames give her. 

They fall into a rhythm and it’s more than she ever could have asked for. 

\--

It has been six months since they met, and a year and six months of being on her own, when she catches her mind straying from counting their money and focusing on something a bit more complex.

Their motel room is quiet; he’s reading a book when she speaks, “I think I need to visit home.” It's an impulsive thought, and she doesn't realize how much she means it until the words are out of her mouth. 

He doesn’t say anything just flips to the next page in his book.

\--

Three weeks later they hitchhike their way to her house. Her mom always warned her about the dangers of hitchhiking-one too many news stories about pretty young girls gone missing-but considering the past two years of her life have been a constant danger she doesn’t care. 

The place is a wreck, abandon and on its way to being condemned. There's a part of her that whispers she should care more- for her childhood home, the only standing thing she has to remind her of her parents-but that part is quickly silenced by the matchbox in her pocket. 

She burns her house, or what’s lets of it, with a match and a can of stale gasoline. He holds her hand as the flames engulf the house; Cruel laughter bubbles up in her chest and she ends up on the ground holding her stomach.

He rubs her back whispering comforting words. For a moment her world is comprised of dancing orange flames and the intimidating sound of memories collapsing along with wood. All she smells is smoke, and it's invigorating.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posted fanfic, so please be kind. I own nothing and comments and kudos are much appreciated. I may expand on this, may not. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
